


2039

by INMH



Series: after the evacuation (pacifist ending) [19]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Developing Relationship, Drama, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Family, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Romance, Strong Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 18:03:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15611910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INMH/pseuds/INMH
Summary: New Year’s Eve 2038, in five scenes.





	2039

**Author's Note:**

> IDK I thought this would be a good transition into 2039, and I haven’t done an ensemble story yet.
> 
> Also, I named the Tracis:
> 
> Blue-Haired Traci is Fiona, and her girlfriend (idk, Red-Haired Traci)? is Brie.

It was five minutes to midnight.  
  
“You know, it really is a shame we can’t get drunk,” Brie remarked as she twisted Fiona’s blue hair into a loose braid, “Because I wouldn’t mind losing my mind for a few hours.”  
  
“Amen,” North agreed, stretching her arms behind her back and lazily eyeing the TV screen, Times Square full of humans and androids awaiting the annual ball-drop. “We should see if any of the scientifically-inclined androids know how to do that.”  
  
“The idea of you getting drunk makes my wires freeze up in terror,” Josh mumbled, running a hand over his face.  
  
North fixed him with a flat look. “Can’t curse people out, can’t beat them with bats, and now I can’t get drunk- you’re a real killjoy, you know that?”  
  
Josh turned to Brie and Fiona. “Would _you_ want to see what North’s like when she’s drunk? Especially if someone makes her mad?”  
  
“Ah.” Fiona cringed.  
  
“Mm.” Brie became very focused on her girlfriend’s hair.  
  
North scoffed as the countdown started, plopping down on the couch on the opposite end of Josh, arms crossed. “Traitors!”  
  
“We said nothing! No words came out of our mouths!” Fiona protested, hands up defensively.  
  
“Yeah, yeah.”  
  
The countdown wound down: Five, four, three, two, one-  
  
“Happy New Year!” Brie threw her hands into the air, and Fiona bent her head back so they could kiss.  
  
Josh scooted over on the couch, looking at North with wide, innocent eyes.  
  
North raised an eyebrow at him. “Hm? Did you want something?”  
  
Josh pouted, and she snorted.  
  
“Yeah, whatever, come here you big sap.”  
   
[---]  
   
It was four minutes to midnight.  
  
“How did this become a tradition?”  
  
“Us, here- or New York?”  
  
“New York.”  
  
Hank burst in from the kitchen. “Haven’t the faintest!” He’d been drinking a lot tonight, and for once he was a cheery drunk. He’d managed to fix a party-hat onto Sumo who, ever the easy-going dog, was now lying calmly beside the couch, head on his paws. Connor and Chloe had only narrowly managed to avoid the same.  
  
Setting his glass down awkwardly on the table (Chloe had to lunge forward to stop it from falling over), Hank plopped down on the end of the couch, and Chloe scooted over until she was nearly pressed up against Connor, their thighs and shoulders touching. Her hair, as always slung over her shoulder in a ponytail, tickled the top of his hand.  
  
Androids could only blush so much; Connor wondered if it was as hard for humans to repress as it was for him.  
  
It was silly, really. He’d shared a bed with Chloe several times since she’d left Elijah Kamski, and though Hank had ribbed them both mercilessly, there was really nothing unduly intimate about it. They were androids: Beds didn’t hold the same level of sanctity when one was capable of sleeping while standing up.  
  
At least, that was what Connor kept telling himself.  
  
“Final countdown!” Hank cheered.  
  
Chloe turned and flashed Connor a smile, which he returned. He hoped she didn’t notice the blush.  
  
“I’m still not sure I understand the significance of this ritual,” Chloe whispered as Hank counted loudly beside them, “Hank says that humans kiss when the New Year comes. But I hardly see the relevance.”  
  
Connor shrugged lightly. “I suppose it’s seen as a celebration. Humans kiss when they’re happy.”  
  
Chloe cocked her head. “Are you happy, Connor?”  
  
Connor froze like the proverbial deer in the headlights. “Y-Yes,” He said, recovering quickly, “I am happy. Are you happy?”  
  
Chloe smiled, and it was radiant. “I am.”  
  
Oh, they were supposed to do something now, weren’t they?  
  
Should he…?  
  
“Zero! Happy New Year!”  
  
Hank kissed them both, and the tension broke immediately.  
   
[---]  
   
It was three minutes to midnight.  
  
Markus had debated staying up.  
  
This was something he used to do with Carl, and now…  
  
…Now Carl wasn’t here.  
  
Still, he wasn’t sure Simon had ever seen the Times Square celebration, and it was worth seeing it now. Besides, 2039 was a year to be rung in with joy, the beginning of the first full year where androids would be protected under the law as humans were. Even if Markus had been a bit miserable these past few weeks, it was worth celebrating if he could.  
  
They’d set up the TV in the studio. Markus was trying to paint, which so far had yielded a few dark strokes of black and blue on the otherwise pale canvas. Simon had suggested that painting might help him cope with Carl’s death, might allow him to express himself more effectively than he was. “Please try,” He’d said, “You’re going to explode if you don’t.”  
  
So Markus was trying.  
  
Simon was sitting on a stool at the table. He was watching the TV whenever Markus looked up, but Markus could feel his eyes on him when he turned back to the canvas. It didn’t bother him; if anything, he thought it was funny.  
  
“Dick Clark was an actor, wasn’t he?” Simon asked as the announcers started the countdown. “Was he the original host?”  
  
“He was. Carl told me he watched the first broadcast of the celebration when he was a kid. Watched it every year after that, too.” Markus felt the usual sting of pain, but he didn’t fall apart. Still, he turned away from the TV, not wanting to see it.  
  
Simon got up, paced over and wrapped his arms around Markus’s shoulders. He stayed there until the countdown finished.  
  
“Happy New Year,” He said, kissing the top of Markus’s head. Before Markus could respond in kind, Simon reached down, swiped some blue paint from the palette in his hand, and brushed it across Markus’s nose and cheek. “Paint something already.”  
  
Markus giggled, pulled him down and kissed his cheek.  
   
[---]  
   
It was two minutes to midnight.  
  
Alice was hopping around the room with Rose’s niece and nephew, the three of them puffing into the party-horns Adam had bought for them.  
  
“You see now why I told you not to?” Rose asked, eyebrows high as her son covered his face with a pillow, “Live with your mistakes, Adam.”  
  
“ _Ugh_ ,” He groaned, muffled into the pillow.  
  
Kara laughed without restraint, and her hand found Luther’s knee without trying. She hesitated, uncertain of whether it would be better or worse to remove it. But Luther didn’t react, didn’t object to it, and so she decided to leave it where it was.  
  
Blake, Rose’s brother, was chuckling in his chair in the corner. “I should let you baby-sit more,” He said to Adam, “It’ll teach you some good lessons about chaos-control real quick.”  
  
“ _Ugh!_ ”  
  
“Alice,” Kara said lightly, “Give it a rest for a second.”  
  
Alice took the horn out of her mouth. “It’s almost midnight, though!”  
  
“Then blow it at midnight, but give us a break until then.”  
  
Alice sighed. “Alright.”  
  
Kara leaned back, shoulder brushing against Luther’s. As usual, he’d remained his quiet, calm self throughout the night, engaging in conversation when engaged first, but otherwise keeping to himself. Once he’d sat down beside Kara, he hadn’t moved for a good two hours yet.  
  
The kids started squealing. “Twenty-five! Twenty-four! Twenty-three! Twenty-two! Twenty-one! Twenty!”  
  
Everyone started counting with them, Rose and Blake and even Adam from under the pillow. Kara counted down too, and she could hear and feel Luther counting too, could feel the rumble of his voice just by touching him. It was such a happy moment, one of those times that made life worth living.  
  
“ _Three! Two! One!_ ”  
  
“Happy New Year!” Rose cheered, throwing her hands up as the kids went crazy with the horns. Adam covered his head with the pillow again.  
  
“Hey,” Luther rumbled. “Kara.”  
  
“Mm?” Kara turned to look up at him.  
  
Luther leaned in and kissed her.  
  
It was soft and sweet and swift. He pulled back quickly enough that nobody else seemed to have seen it. Kara leaned back, blinking; Luther’s expression was calm, but she detected a hint of uncertainty there, like he was concerned he’d crossed a line.  
  
Kara didn’t know what to say.  
  
So she moved a little closer to him and settled back in beside him.  
  
It got the point across.  
  
[---]  
   
It was one minute to midnight.  
  
“ _Fifty-nine! Fifty-eight! Fifty-seven!_ ”  
  
Gavin rolled his eyes. “Are they really gonna count down the whole damn minute?” He growled.  
  
RK900, seated primly in a chair a few feet away, wisely did not respond.  
  
All it had taken was one drunk moron dressed up as Santa Claus, and Gavin got to spend Christmas _and_ New Year’s Eve in the hospital. It would have been bearable if a certain robot hadn’t taken it upon himself to come and force his company on him.  
  
Bastard knew he couldn’t walk, of course.  
  
Still, unlike on missions, RK900 had been kind of quiet tonight. He’d spoken occasionally, mostly to ask when Gavin would be leaving the hospital (and coming back to work, Gavin could see the question inside the question), and watched the TV with an expression of mild interest.  
__  
God but this bot was weird.  
  
“ _Five! Four! Three! Two! One!_ ”  
  
“Woo,” Gavin remarked flatly, waving his broken arm vaguely.  
  
RK900 scooted his chair a little closer to Gavin’s bed. He opened his mouth to speak, and Gavin cut him off:  
  
“I’m not kissing you, asshole.”  
  
“I wouldn’t ask you to, Detective.”  
  
-End


End file.
